I glance up at him. He’s staring down at me with those intensely cold eyes, that permanent line between his dark brows. I’m not sure this man has a good side.
“Then,” he goes on, “you went to sleep. You’ve been doing nothing but sleeping ever since. We’ve brought in food, water, but you didn’t want it. You did attempt to stab me in the eye with a fork though. That would have hurt, had you not been so terribly stupid and slow.”
I think about that for a moment. I’m proud that I attempted to fight back and escape, but it saddens me to the core to know how easily I failed, and how I’ll fail again. How the fuck do I get out of this situation?
“What do you plan on doing with me?” I ask softly, trying to bury the fear. “You let me bathe, you let me sleep, you brought me food, water. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you keeping me alive?”
He scoffs, his mouth crooking up into a half-smile. “You’re worth nothing if you’re dead. You do realize that, don’t you?”
I give my head a shake, my brain exploding with stars. I press my fingers into my cheek. It’s swollen and sore. I stare into nothing, feeling nothing but pain.
“Can I ask you something?” he says after a moment, and I’m so surprised by the polite, tentative tone of his voice that I glance up at him sharply. “It’s about your parents.”
My heart seizes. “What about them?” I whisper. “Please, please don’t do anything to them.”
He lifts a single brow. “I wasn’t planning on it. Your parents are Elaine and James Warwick, are they not?”
I feel like I should lie but what would be the point?
“Yes.”
“And where were you born?”
“Here. Well, in Daly City.”
His eyes narrow as he studies me for a long moment. I can almost feel his gaze penetrating my brain, as if he’s able to look inside me and sift around.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks quietly.
Now I’m confused. “Of course I’m sure.”
“Why, because you have a birth certificate?”
I blink. “Yeah…and that’s what I’ve been told. It says so on my birth certificate, on my passport. What are you implying?” I pause, realization dawning on me. “Wait. You’re with him, aren’t you?”
“With him?”
“Atlas Poe.”
His brows go up in surprise. “Atlas Poe?” he repeats harshly.
Not the reaction I was expecting.
He comes closer, stares me down, his cold eyes turning fiery. “What do you know of Atlas Poe?”
“Nothing…” I say, wishing I had some clever lie but all I have is the truth. “He was…he was outside my house one night. Late. Wanting to talk to my parents. Said he was an associate of theirs, a member of some guild.”
“And then what did you do?” He’s staring at me so intently I feel my skin burn.
“I told him to call, send an email. He walked off. I never saw him again.?
? I hesitate, not sure how much I should tell this man. “I asked my mom about him, but she pretended she never knew him. But I could tell she did. She was lying to me.”
Oh god, why am I telling him that? What the fuck is making me talk?
He keeps staring at me, slowly running his hand over his strong jaw, the scratchy sound of his facial hair loud in the room. “You really have no idea…” he muses.
“Idea about what?”